The world around me spun as I jolted awake, gasping for air. My chest heaved, and the ground beneath me felt unfamiliar, cold, and unforgiving. I barely managed to push myself up, my limbs stiff, as though they hadn't moved in far too long. There was an overwhelming sense of something wrong, but I couldn't place what it was. My mind struggled to process what I was seeing—shattered wood, broken glass scattered across the floor, and dust thick in the air like time itself had been frozen here.
I looked around in a haze, trying to make sense of it all, but nothing made sense. This wasn't a place I recognized. The walls—if you could even call them that—were cracked, and the furniture that was still intact looked like it had been abandoned long ago. There were no signs of life, nothing to indicate why I was here. Only silence.
I reached out, my hand trembling, and braced myself against a table that looked too old to have survived whatever had happened here. A sharp pain shot through my leg, and I stumbled, looking down to find a deep, angry red mark on my skin. A bite, perhaps, though I didn't recognize what kind of creature could leave a wound like this. My mind spun with the sudden awareness that I was injured, that I was in some kind of danger.
Panic bubbled up inside me, but I shoved it down. There was no time for fear.
I forced myself to stand, swaying slightly as I looked for a way out of this strange place. My gaze landed on a door—a path leading outside, away from the wreckage and the suffocating feeling of being trapped. Without thinking, I limped toward it, each step sending a jolt of pain through me, but I couldn't stop. I needed to understand where I was, what had happened.
When I stepped into the light, it felt blinding—unnatural, almost too bright. The sky stretched above me, wide and vast, with no clouds in sight. But it wasn't the sky that caught my attention—it was the land before me.
A stream wound through the landscape, the water crystal clear, its soft babbling a stark contrast to the eerie silence of the ruined cottage behind me. Flowers—bright and wild—grew in patches, vibrant and unbroken, like they had been untouched for centuries. I was stunned. This world, this place, it felt... alive in a way that made my heart race, in a way that didn't belong to me.
I staggered forward, unable to look away from the beauty, my breath coming in shallow gasps.
A voice in the back of my mind urged me to stay focused, to keep moving, but it felt so wrong to ignore this peaceful scene. How could something so beautiful exist in the midst of whatever chaos had brought me here?
I took a few more hesitant steps before my leg buckled, and I fell to one knee beside the stream. The cool water splashed against my skin, and I winced, the shock of the cold snapping me back to reality. My mind reeled, trying to understand how I had ended up here.
I stared down at my reflection in the water. The person who looked back at me wasn't who I remembered. My skin was darker, a shade of tan I'd never known, and my eyes—green, like deep forest leaves—stared back at me, wide with confusion. My hair, once brown, was now black and coarse. This body wasn't mine, but it was, at the same time.
I reached down to touch the water, the ripples distorting the reflection. And then—something strange happened.
A soft light appeared around my fingers, glowing faintly as I pressed them into the water. At first, I thought it was a trick of the light, but the sensation spread up my arm, warm and tingling, as though it were coming from inside me. My heart skipped a beat as I pulled my hand away, but the light didn't fade. It flickered around my fingertips, almost like magic—but magic wasn't real, right?
Instinctively, I called out to the air, my voice trembling. "Heal," I whispered, almost too quietly to hear myself.
For a moment, nothing happened. But then, I felt the warmth in my body shift, and when I looked down at the bite on my leg, the redness had faded. The swelling had reduced, the pain now dull and bearable.
It wasn't a full healing. It wasn't a cure. But it was something. It was enough.
I sucked in a shaky breath, my mind trying to make sense of what had just happened. Had I done that? Had the world just... responded to me?
The forest around me seemed to hold its breath, the wind pausing, and for a brief moment, I could swear the trees watched me. My heart pounded in my chest as I glanced around, every instinct telling me to move—before whatever had made this place its home took notice of me.
A sound in the distance made me freeze—something low and rumbling, like a growl. It wasn't distant. It was close. Too close.
Without thinking, I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the protests of my body, and stumbled toward the cottage. The growl echoed again, louder this time, and I could feel the weight of it, the threat in the air.
I slammed the door behind me, my heart hammering as I pressed my back against it. The quiet came again, but it was different now. The silence wasn't comforting. It was the kind of stillness that preceded something dangerous.
My body was sore, my mind exhausted, and my heart raced in the quiet darkness of the cottage. But something in me told me that this was just the beginning. Whatever had brought me here, whatever had changed me—it wasn't over. The beasts would come. And so would the answers.
I just had to survive long enough to find them. I rubbed my eyes, willing myself to stay conscious. The bed felt like a sanctuary, but I knew it was only temporary. I couldn't rest for long—not when everything around me was so unfamiliar, so foreign. There were things I still needed to understand.
I stood up again, my legs shaky but determined. The room was small, almost claustrophobic, but the air smelled different here—more alive, less stagnant. I moved toward a window, brushing away the webs and dust, and peered out.
Outside, the world looked as strange as everything else. The cottage sat at the edge of a dense forest, its trees towering over the land like silent guardians. A soft breeze swayed the leaves, and beyond that, in the distance, I could see a faint, strange glow hovering over the tree line. It was not the light of the sun, which had set long ago, but something... else. Something unnatural.
I squinted, heart racing at the unfamiliar sight. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, but I didn't look away. I had to understand this world, even if it frightened me.
After a few long moments, I turned away from the window, shaking off the chill creeping up my spine. My legs were weak, and my stomach growled in protest, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since—well, since I had no idea when. I needed food. But there was no sign of any supplies in the cottage, and I wasn't sure what to expect out there in the wild.
The door at the far end of the room caught my attention. I hadn't noticed it before, not in my rush to sit and process what little I knew. It looked like a small closet or maybe a storage space. My curiosity piqued, I crossed the room and pulled it open, half-expecting it to be empty or filled with more debris.
Instead, I found something far more intriguing: a small shelf, lined with old bottles and jars, their contents unclear in the dim light. The faint scent of herbs and spices filled the air as I knelt down, inspecting the items. My fingers brushed over them gently, feeling the smooth glass of the bottles. There were several vials with liquids of varying colors—green, amber, and a deep violet.
One bottle, at the far end of the shelf, was different from the rest. It was a darker color, almost black, and when I picked it up, I felt a subtle warmth emanating from it, like it was alive, just waiting for me to notice. I tilted it carefully in my hands, the liquid inside shimmering slightly in the low light.
I felt an odd pull toward it, a sense that I should open it, should somehow drink it. But no. I hesitated. I had no idea what it was or what it could do. My mind swirled with doubt, but something deep inside urged me to hold onto it.
I decided to keep it with me for now—whatever it was, it might be useful later. I tucked it into the folds of my cloak and straightened up, taking in a deep breath. I couldn't stay here forever. I had to keep moving, keep searching.
The world outside was waiting for me.
Before I left the room, I moved toward the bed again and pulled a blanket over it, neatly folding the edges. It was a small thing, but it felt right—an instinct to leave the place in some semblance of order. A small part of me, the part that still felt like myself, resisted the chaos.
With one last glance around the room, I stepped back into the main area of the cottage. The air was still thick with dust, but I could now make out more details—patterns on the walls, carvings that had once been intricate but now faded with age. And on the table in the center of the room, something caught my eye: a map, old and worn, its edges frayed as though it had been passed down for generations.
I crossed the room slowly, my fingers lightly tracing the edges of the table as I approached it. The map was folded, but the more I looked, the more it seemed to pull me in.
The symbols on it were nothing I recognized, not words or letters I knew. But the shapes—curved lines and circles—reminded me of something I had once seen in a dream, something that felt like it belonged to this place. My pulse quickened, but I carefully unfolded the map, spreading it out across the table.
At first, it seemed like a map of nothing in particular—some empty land with vague markings. But as my eyes adjusted, I realized there were parts of it that seemed... alive. Shifting, almost, as if the land was changing before me.
One section near the center of the map flickered, faint symbols appearing in the air above it. My breath hitched. What was this? Magic? It had to be. No map could do that on its own. The symbols weren't words; they were something more—an energy I could feel pulling at me.
I placed my hand on the map, and the symbols seemed to respond, glowing brighter beneath my touch. A sense of urgency flooded through me, mixed with the overwhelming feeling that I had to learn more, that I had to understand what was happening.
A voice, distant but clear, whispered in my mind: Find the source.
For now, I rest as I make my way to the rick old bed lay down, knowing I will the energy.